In The Beginning
by theytalktome
Summary: Harper's towering six foot frame bends down to one knee, wiping his hands across his denim jeans as if they had been too soiled to touch the pale saffron skin of a perfect man he found to be everything he wanted. (Slash. Quick one shot.)


"I love you, ..Luke Harper," Christian's voice is emotionless, as cold and blank as his eyes and the nonexistent expression on his face; eyes sunken and bruised, swollen ,staring into nothing. Chapped, pale lips void of feeling, blood pooling between several cracks. He blinks slow, mouth opening to a forced smile that looked as if it was responding to a manual command. His white teeth stained with crimson. He slumps to one side, palms scarred from clawing at his attackers barely able to support the weight of his battered body on the hardwood floor he had been tossed down onto, they jump from the feeling of leaning onto the cold metal chain secured to his ankles that draped across the ground, hands moving elsewhere. He shivers and twitches noticeably.

Harper's towering six foot frame bends down to one knee, wiping his hands across his denim jeans as if they had been too soiled to touch the pale saffron skin of a perfect man he found to be everything he wanted. Christian's eyes move from staring down to looking up at Wyatt's "First Son." His face guided to turn up toward the man, the fear he once had gone, every indication that he was a human being was gone. Harper's thumb gently glides across a bruise and torn flesh with noticeable regret, he closes his eyes and takes a breath that's cut short when Christian repeats the same phrase he would have killed to hear: "I love you, Luke Harper." It's empty - a nonexistent feeling. The only thing he had said since being brought to the bedroom, the words had been as cold as the room its self. He nods simply at Christian and stands back up, turning around to face his leader.

From the very second the Wyatt's had kidnapped the veteran wrestler from the locker room, Christian had tirelessly fought for his freedom, protected himself even when there was no imposed danger except the shackles on his hands and feet - Luke could not risk having his love run out. He confessed, multiple times, the reasons of the abduction - based solely on his affection for the older man; it seemed to only be more frightening.

With a chuckle, Bray Wyatt's hand comes to rest on Harper's shoulder. Luke had dare not ask what the man had done to Christian - the, now formerly, charismatic, energetic and irresistible superstar was a hollow mess. It wasn't supposed to be like this - he could feel his own interest almost slip away; he wanted him for a reason. He's told Christian is his reward, a prize he had won; he had done good for The Family, and Bray was no stranger to knowing every detail of his follower's lives. He sits beside Christian momentarily, removing the keys from his pocket and Luke watches the cuffs and heavy duty chains fall from scarred wrists and ankles - quickly being informed, ever so casually, that he had no reason to fear Christian running. Bray smiles at Harper on his way out, closing the door half way to entitle the pair a bit of privacy.

Luke stares at the paint chipping away from the white door before his eyes widen at the phrase being uttered again from the crushed man hardly alive on his bedroom floor. He promised to love and protect this man; though Bray had long since lost his patience with the veteran wrestler into the second week of his extended stay - he could do nothing but sit back as the man he conformed to promised to have Christian head over heels for him in return for his faithfulness to Bray and the rest of The Family - his in ring prowess proved to be equally impressive and beneficial to the leader as well. He deserved this "prize," as he was told. Luke could not even mull over the idea of reconsidering - he was getting what he wanted, after all.

Christian's gaze turns up to him, his dull, blue eyes looking so worn and lost, perfect spheres of once sparkling ocean had cast over with darkness. He sways, torso moving back and forth like a slow pendulum, eyebrows arching sorrowfully as his lips barely parted, "Obey… Obey…" his cracking voice begins to stutter. Harper stares, almost horrified at the words common to the compound he was living in, bending down to be face-to-face with the older man, he shakes his head and presses his finger to his lips, trying to quiet the blonde. A man in Luke Harper's position was afraid of nothing, and at 6'5'' and nearly three hundred pounds, the big rig had no reason to be - but seeing Christian like this made him shake.


End file.
